


The Apology

by voleuse



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-11-11
Updated: 2001-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:04:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel apologies to an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Apology

**Author's Note:**

> Mild spoilers for "Offspring."

I'm sorry.

I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to feel like this.

I never meant to love her.

Hell, I'm not even sure if I _do_ love her. But after Fred's gushing, I keep wondering...what if she's right? What if I am in love with Cordy?

What if she's in love with me?

It's wrong. Even after talking to Buffy, after realizing we can't go back, ever… I feel like I'm betraying her. It's all right if she goes on with her life, but why should I?

I left for her. I lived for her. I broke her heart. Why can't I stay loyal to it?

You knew how it was. To let go of someone you love. To save her from your darker side.

I should know better than to start the cycle anew.

I never meant for this to happen.

You would have been perfect for her, you know. Despite her superficiality, and her obsession with her looks, she really wants someone who can look past her beauty. She wants someone who will worship her. And as much as I adore her, damn it, I don't have it in me. I can't see her as my goddess, my muse. She's not my princess.

She's yours.

I remember how, after she left the office, we would sit at my table, doing shots. You with whiskey, me with pig's blood. I would reveal a little bit more about Buffy, or Drusilla, or Darla. Not the whole story, just the rare sentence.

You would praise Cordelia -- not only her eyes, her lips, her legs (though you did that, too). You'd rave about some off-hand joke she made that morning. You'd recite the tiniest shreds of conversation, as if I hadn't heard them before.

You told me how much you loved her. How you dreamed of her every night.

How you would die for her.

You died for her.

I killed for her.

Who do you think loved her more?

I never meant for this to happen.

Forgive me.


End file.
